Scarlet eyes and Crimson Scourge
by LadyOverkill
Summary: FaytxAlbel: just Fayt's musings before entering the final battle of the game, Star Ocean 3.


He loved him.

There was no other way to describe it. It wasn't an infatuation, it wasn't the end of the world…it wasn't even an age-old case of mutual respect. It was just love, and it would probably have been best just to leave it at that. Except Fayt never could, because he was never taught how to. 'Leave it at that' were four words missing entirely from Fayt Leingod's vocabulary.

He was taught to fight for everything, to assault the stars in the hunt for every dream. This was one dream, however, that he knew he could not fight for, that he could not obtain no matter how well he battled. All the sparring in the world couldn't have prepared him for the Fall, and now that it had come he knew that it was no use struggling. He Fell, hitting the ground harder than he could've known. And there was no clawing his way back to the top this time.

He often asked himself why he loved him, but it only resulted in more questions than answers.

He supposed it was the way that he moved…the way the wind teased the shots of black and gold hair that spilled from his head, across his neck, down his back in tight twin coils. Perhaps it was the way his lithe frame twisted and writhed on the battlefield, the heat on his face and the lust in his eyes as he moved in for the kill, Crimson Scourge bringing forth crimson waterfalls, scattering the plains they travelled with a monotone rainbow that hid no gold at the end. He loved that sultry look of satisfaction that graced his face as the sword was sheathed and the battle finished.

Yes. He thought perhaps that was why he loved him; the look in his eyes.

The others didn't understand, of course. He had tried to explain it to them once, while sat in the audience chamber in Airyglyph Castle. He wanted them to know before the final battle began…he felt he owed it to them. But they weren't interested. They watched him with distaste after that; he could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head whenever he made a mistake in battle, if he slipped or grazed his knees. _Distractions_, they said, whispering in his ear. _This is no time for distractions. _

He had noticed the ways in which they watched _him_, as well. Fayt often found himself and the others stopping and staring as _he_ danced his magic in battle, his movements nothing more than poetry and yet still there was something in his disgraceful gracefulness that no rhyme could honour.

The looks on their faces would all be different. Priceless in a thousand and one ways.

Nel would grimace, though through inferiority or disdain Fayt could never quite tell. Mirage and Cliff arched an eyebrow, impressed but still wary. Maria cast a half-smile in his direction, the glint in her eyes showing mutual understanding for his intensity in battle. Sophia…she always looked a little distant, a little sad. She was afraid of him, and Fayt knew that. He knew he should be there for her, with an arm around the shoulder and the comforting words, assuring her she was still his number one.

But she wasn't. And she knew it.

Fayt knew that she knew it, and he thought perhaps that was why she looked so sad. He knew how she felt, and yet he did nothing to change things. It was because he didn't want to. He wanted things to remain exactly as they were for all eternity. And yet, part of him wanted everything to change all at once. Part of him wanted to take Albel Nox's lips in his, wrap his arms around his supple waist, and pull him into a tight embrace. He wanted him alone in a room, alone in the dark, alone with just themselves and no one else to blame. He wanted him terribly. He wanted him constantly.

He just wanted him.

But in an age where blood spilt determined the victor and wisdom meant nothing but weakness, there was no time for want, and there was no time for dreaming.

In that terrible moment of realisation when the ecstasy of dreams comes crashing down around you, Fayt snapped out of his stupor and looked skywards, where the strangely hypnotic figure of Luther dissolved away into nothingness. Scatterings of stars shredded through the air, cutting him into tiny pieces. Fayt felt himself slipping, away from the reality he had until recently thought his only one, away from the creature with the black and gold hair, whose scarlet eyes for once showed a flash of fear.

Fayt felt the final spiral of reality drain away as the flashing lights of Luther's domain disappeared from his vision.

The battle was over. They had won. The evil had been destroyed.

But so had something else.

As everything slipped away into nothingness, Fayt found the strength to conjure up a thought. _Fight_, he told himself. _Fight the sky. Just one last time._

He thought of scarlet eyes and Crimson Scourge, and took a deep breath.


End file.
